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bluesfortheredj · 4 years ago

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Modern Romance - Epilogue.

Smut ahead.

“Gwil, I can’t do this, I can’t cope,” she sighs, her voice on the verge of cracking with tears.

I can hear our son in the background; his cries coming across loud and clear as if it were him on the phone instead.

“It’s as if I’m not good enough, I’m not you. He doesn’t want his mum, he wants his dad.”

“Don’t say that, he doesn’t want me! He wants you, the person who gave birth to him.”

“He always calms down when you soothe him. I’ve tried everything; his nappy is dry, he’s not hungry, he hasn’t got wind… I don’t know what else to do,” she sounds empty, completely drained from a sleepless night and day.

I’ve only been gone 48 hours and she’s been up for most of those with our little one. I should be there, I say this too many times in our relationship, but I’m out in Europe filming and absent for more important moments as usual. I didn’t want to leave but in all honesty we need the money now we’ve got a tiny human to feed and clothe, and with (Y/N) on maternity leave it’s a struggle at times to make ends meet. Our little Leo is only six months old and it was the toughest decision to make but (Y/N) encouraged me to take it being as it’s only four weeks, despite being apprehensive about being left on her own with the bubba.

“Put me on video,” I instruct, needing to see her face.

It feels like Australia all over again and I might as well be the other side of the world with how isolated she must be feeling right now. She does as I say and now I can see the sheer exhaustion on her face in the suddenly harsh light of our lounge; she’s pale, there are deep dark circles underneath her eyes, and she looks completely beaten. Leo is screaming in the rocker next to her, one of her feet still managing to try and soothe him in spite of the fact that her whole body was now weak with tiredness, and I have to force a reassuring smile.

“He will not. Stop. Crying,” she sobs, “the neighbours must think something terrible is going on in here with the way he’s screaming. I’m an awful mother, I can’t cope being alone with my own child, I-”

“Shh,” I hush, “you’re doing a brilliant job under the circumstances. I should be there to help, there’s absolutely no shame in struggling on your own with a new born! Just look at me… look at me a second… just breathe okay? Take some deep breaths. That’s it. In… and out. Now you’re gonna pick up Leo and do the same okay?”

I’m clutching at straws, I have no more of an idea of what to do than she does, and I’m just making this up in the blind hope that it’ll go some way to calm the two of them down.

“Maybe do the skin to skin thing?” I add, knowing that we were told how it can help with bonding in the early months.

She nods slowly, stands the phone up on the coffee table, undoes the top few buttons on her pyjama shirt, takes one last deep breath, then picks up Leo from the rocker and carefully tucks him inside the clothing with his little red face still crying out for something unknown. I nod and smile as she looks to the phone screen for reassurance, then she wipes her tears away and starts to take deep breaths once more while her finger tips massage Leo’s scalp gently while he cries into her neck.

“You know him better than anyone on this planet,” I remind her, “you nurtured him for nine whole months and made sure he came into this world as safely and healthy as he could.”

Her eyes close as she begins to hum a song and she nods along to what I say until finally those screams begin to fade and I watch as his tiny chunky arms reach out to (Y/N)’s skin and rest upon it as if hugging her. The humming stops and I soon realise the two of them are now asleep in front of me, but I stay on video for another twenty minutes just to watch them both and take in the sight of my little family snoozing happily without me there. Leo stirs a little, his eyes opening slightly to look up at his mum, then he nuzzles into her neck with a yawn and he’s soon off to sleep again before I manage to end the video call.

Everything had been quite the rush since I proposed over a year ago; we had a small wedding ceremony at a country house in the middle of nowhere when she was six months gone with only the closest family and friends being invited, and we chose to forgo a honeymoon in favour of going away after the baby arrived which obviously did not go to plan because babies are notoriously good at messing up plans; it’s lucky they’re so bloody cute. And Leo… well, he’s the cutest of them all, not that I’m biased in any way obviously, but he is definitely the most gorgeous baby I’ve ever laid eyes on, and the most perfect mix of (Y/N) and I with his tiny button nose and piercing blue eyes. It’s funny how you imagine having the perfect little family and yet somehow the reality isn’t as easy as you think; sleepless nights, sick down every top you own, explosive poos in almost every colour of the rainbow, pee on your face if you take the nappy away too quickly… it’s really quite fascinating how much a small human can impact on your life. (Y/N) is a born mother but it hasn’t been easy adjusting to this new way of life for either of us, and I know that this is such a huge step to be left on her own with Leo for so long, and I sure as hell wouldn’t be able to do it, I know that for a fact.

“Gwil!” (Y/N) whispers excitedly when I answer her video call a few days later, “look!”

She switches cameras to show me a sleeping Leo in his cot then backs out of the room and turns the camera on herself to show me a relieved smile on her still slightly sleep deprived face, “it only took a week,” she sighs.

I smile, yet still feel sad that I’m not there to help out, “I’m sorry,” I exhale with a shake of my head, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she reassures, “if I can get through the last week without tearing my hair out then I can get through anything, right?”

“Exactly,” I nod, “you’re the strongest woman I know.”

“I’m nothing without you here.”

“Shut up,” I scoff, “don’t be ridiculous. Now remind me, when are your parents getting there?”

She looks down at her watch briefly, “in about an hour.”

“Good, and did the shopping get delivered alright?”

“Yep,” she nods, “got about 20 packs of nappies now which should last at least a couple of days,” she laughs.

“How’s his poo doing?” the conversations we have these days really are quite unexpected.

“It’s looking more human and less glowing alien goop, so it’s going in the right direction!”

“Oh thank god,” I sigh, “I could not cope with the…” I pause as I almost gag at the thought of what I used to find in his nappy, “yeah… that.”

She laughs at my reaction; a laugh that I hadn’t seen since before I left, and I melt into the seat at the desk in my hotel room at the sight and sound of that beautiful response. It was like cool rain after a sweltering summer’s day, having a mug of hot chocolate while underneath a blanket in winter, or the pure, ecstatic relief of coming home after weeks away. She’s home to me; I don’t even need to be in our house as long as I’m with her and now little Leo as well.

“What are you thinking?” she hums, seeing me drift off to a place with her.

“I’m just-”

Leo’s scream comes across loud and clear on the phone and she sticks out her bottom lip as far as it will go before knocking the back of her head on the wall behind as she tries to muster up some energy to deal with the impending situation.

“I love you, bye,” she sighs, ending the video call just as I open my mouth to reply.

“Love you too,” I say to the photo of us dancing at our wedding that makes up the background on my phone.

I spend far too long looking at pictures on my phone these days, although it’s getting increasingly harder to find the ones of us alone through the many rapid shots of Leo doing completely mundane things like giggling, waving his hands about, sleeping, eating, bathing, and most probably pooing in at least fifty percent of them. I have to scroll for a while before something other than our little man appears, and I end up going all the way back to the first photo I ever took of (Y/N). It’s just as magical as the day I took it; the soft glow of the rising sun illuminating the outline of her body in our bed. Because now it is our bed. The bed we’ve made love in countless times, the bed we’ve both cried in, comforted one another in, laughed until we’ve almost wet ourselves in, and the bed our baby was conceived in. The first thing I do when I get home is take her to bed, as long as Leo can give us five minutes that is; I think I’ll have to call in reinforcements, aka grandparents as childcare.

I try to squeeze through the crowds at the airport as quickly as possible so I can jump in a cab and get home, but these people will just not move. My frustrations grow with each person that bumps into me, and I’m a grumbling mess when I finally get outside the prison that is Heathrow, especially when I see that there are no taxis in sight thanks to the mass influx of people tonight. It’s a nightmare and the cheerful and relieved mood I was in when we landed has been stripped away bit by bit in the last half an hour. I finally find myself a cab and pop earphones in for the relatively quick journey considering London traffic, then I breathe a sigh of relief as I arrive home and walk up that familiar path. The door flies open before I even get to the mat and I drop my suitcase and bag as (Y/N) comes running out to greet me, flinging her arms around my neck and almost knocking me over with her enthusiasm. Now I’m really home.

“I missed you so much,” she quietly sobs into my shirt.

“I missed you more,” I whisper back, tears rolling over my cheeks, “are you okay? Is Leo alright? Where is he?”

She pulls away and I wipe her tears as she hangs on to my coat, “please don’t hate me but he’s with my parents until tomorrow…”

My face lights up at the thought of having (Y/N) all to myself again if only for 24 hours, and I can’t help but let out a relieved laugh, “how could I ever hate you? I get you alone for a whole day and we can pretend we’ve got no actual responsibilities. I couldn’t love you any more if I tried. Now come on, we’re having sex in every room.”

I take her hand and pull her inside the house to the sweetest sound of her laughing behind me, and I sit her on the stairs before running back out to grab my luggage. I drop it all in a pile in the hallway before I kick the door shut behind me, then she stands up on the step she stood on the first proper weekend we spent together and we recreate that kiss; the kiss that cemented us as a couple despite there being no labels at that point as we stood in our pyjamas ready for a night of nothing in particular.

“I completely and utterly adore our little Leo, but my god I’ve been aching to have you all to myself since he arrived,” I admit breathlessly, barely parting from our kiss as my hands wander her body unsure of where to stop these days.

“I know,” she nods as her lips move along my jaw lazily, “it’s just you and me until tomorrow night my love. Let’s not waste a minute.”

My eyes roll into the back of my head at those words and she pushes against my chest as she steps down from the stairs, then in a flurry of discarded clothes, wet, messy kisses and bumps into walls, doors, and furniture we somehow end up in the living room with me sat on the sofa and my beautiful (Y/N) bouncing up and down on my lap. I’ve missed this, I’ve missed her, I’ve missed the feeling of being so intimate with the one I love, I’ve missed her body and all the beautiful little changes it’s made to carry and nurture our son. I look up at her in both awe and pure pleasure to see her gaze focused on me and we meet for a sloppy, teeth clashing kiss while our bodies move together as one for the first time since our bubba came along. I’m first to orgasm, with her following shortly after, and we lay in a tangled, naked mess along the sofa as we catch our breath once we’ve finished. Our bodies are stuck together with the thin layers of sweat that coat both of us and the only sound is our breathing as it transitions from pants to soft breaths.

“Pasta?” she eventually asks.

“I fucking love you,” I reply.

She gets up with a grin and I study every inch of her body as she looks around for something to cover her, then I realise just how much it had changed during the pregnancy and the last few months and it’s a bewitching sight to see.

“You look incredible,” I admire, leaning up on one arm as she slips my t-shirt over her head.

“Urgh,” she groans, “I’m fatter than ever, my nipples are so painful, the stretch marks have spread, and I can barely get control over my bladder. I look far from incredible.”

I furrow my brow at her and sit up, “I mean it; you’re absolutely stunning. I hadn’t realised just how much your body had adapted to having our little one but it’s amazing to see, and you’re just as beautiful as the day I met you, if not more.”

“How is it you can still make my knees weak with mere words?” she blushes, backing out of the room to sort out some food.

I dress… well, I put on my pants and the jogging bottoms I wore on the journey back, then join her in the kitchen and it’s as if we’re back to those first couple of months again; the silliness, the passion, the carefree nature of us both, and it’s just as intoxicating now as it was back then. I know it’s completely selfish but having her attention on just me again is what I’ve been craving since our little muffin came along, and I’m sure that this will satiate my need for at least another six months. To be honest, I think she needs this just as much as I do; she’s had a tough month being on her own with Leo and playing both mum and dad while I’ve been away, and now she can have a well deserved day off from it all.

Our day is filled with delicious food, laying on the sofa and watching a whole television programme without being disturbed by cries, getting lost in one another with endless kissing and touching, and we make love two more times with one in our bedroom and the other in the kitchen. By night we don’t even want to go to sleep for fear of missing a second of being with each other, but we soon have to give in to the utter exhaustion of being awake for so long, and we huddle up together for a peaceful nights sleep.

“Morning,” (Y/N) whispers softly as I blink into the light of the room.

“Morning,” I reply groggily, trying my best to sit up.

“I have a confession to make…”

“Go on.”

“I phoned my parents this morning and they’re bringing Leo back in an hour. I loved our time together, it was perfect in every way, but my god am I missing that little sleep stealer!”

I let out a chuckle at her confession, “me too. It just wasn’t the same watching almost a whole series without one interruption. I miss cuddling him in one arm and trying to do something else with the other.”

“Well, it’s official… we’re proper parents now.”

“Yep. Undoubtedly so!”

She slips under the covers and cuddles into my side, running her fingers through the hair on my chest softly, and we both close our eyes to savour the moment before begrudgingly getting up and dressed ready for the return of Leo.

“Thank you,” I say as we spot her parent’s car pulling up outside.

“For what?” she frowns.

“Sticking with me, making me a dad, being my rock… the list goes on.”

She places a hand on my cheek and kisses my lips gently, “you big softie. You’re stuck with me anyway,” she winks.

The arrival of Leo at the door is signified by one of his giggles, and (Y/N) runs to open it and take our son in her arms with me following quickly behind. He wriggles against her and soon starts grabbing at her to get as close as humanly possible to his mum as she peppers his head with kisses while she carefully rocks her body soothingly.

“Daddy’s home!” she whispers excitedly as she passes him to me and ushers her parents into the lounge.

He grumbles a little, having to get used to smelling his dad again after such a long time, but he soon settles and overall seems pleased to see me thank goodness. I rock him in my arms as (Y/N) goes to make the tea and I stand in the kitchen doorway looking between the two loves of my life and completely taken aback by how lucky I got to have them in my life.

“Hey, come here,” I nod as (Y/N) turns to look at me.

She steps towards us both and plants a soft kiss on the little one’s nose as I wrap my free arm around her, then press my lips first to (Y/N)’s head, and secondly to Leo’s. As long as I’ve got these two in my life, I’ll be happy.

#gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee x you #gwilym lee fanfic #gwilym lee imagine #gwilym lee smut

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noratreasures · 4 years ago

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breastfeedingcovers-blog · 7 years ago

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emfabblog-blog · 6 years ago

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Aussie Nappies: Your Three (3) Options When Choosing the Best Cloth Nappy From Australia

I bet you are surprised. I certainly was! It goes to show though, that the modern cloth nappy is here to stay. Regardless of the fact that more eco-friendly disposable nappies are being devised, mums still favour the savings to be gained through investing in the modern cloth of today. No longer terry towelling nappies held in place with pins and waterproofed with plastic pilchers (as this is old technology now), the modern version can be as easy on and off as a disposable, yet is reusable with a run through the washing machine.

Let's look at three types of Aussie Nappies you can buy:

1. Aussie Nappies: The Commercial Nappy Brand

Commercial nappy brands have a high volume of turnover - seeing them set up at a parenting expo, you soon see why the original WAHM decided to out-source their production to meet demand for their popular design. Found at many retailers, there will be a wide range of styles, colours and materials available to purchase click here. You benefit from volume production in the cost, and easy availability of the commercial nappy brand.

2. Aussie Nappies: The Licensed Nappy Design

A licensed nappy design has been tried, tested and found suitable by many mothers and babies before yours. So much so that the designer allows cottage license production of their design. This means a WAHM can use her own fabric and material choices to make a nappy that they know will be effective, well fitting and absorbent, without her need to invest the time, money and sheer effort involved in creating her own unique design.

3. Aussie Nappies: The WAHM-made Nappy

These are made by Work-At-Home-Mums, or groups (collectives) of them. They make a premium product too - and some are in very high demand as they take customised and semi-custom orders, and can work with you to make the best cloth nappy. You can personalize with embroidery, your own fabrics, applique - whatever your creative desire may be. It will be more expensive, or perhaps not if it is a new maker entering the market. Lots of variety though, and often one-of-a-kind (IOAK).

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jeremystrele · 6 years ago

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Parliamentarian Adam Bandt Talks Family

Family

Emma Eldridge

Adam Bandt MP is worried about what a warmer world will mean for his children, Elke (1) and Wren (3). Photo – Sarah Collins of Work + Co. for The Design Files.

Adam his wife Claudia Perkins and the girls at home. Photo – Sarah Collins of Work + Co. for The Design Files.

Adam is the Federal Member for Melbourne and Acting Co-Deputy of the Australian Greens. Photo – Sarah Collins of Work + Co. for The Design Files.

‘Claudia and I feel really strongly about not putting children at risk through non-vaccination,’ tells Adam. Photo – Sarah Collins of Work + Co. for The Design Files.

Adam being frequently in Canberra presents some challenges for the young family – but FaceTime does help! Photo – Sarah Collins of Work + Co. for The Design Files.

Adam is a champion of social justice, climate action, and racial, educational and economic equity. Photo – Sarah Collins of Work + Co. for The Design Files.

Adam highlights that there are more women in the paid workforce than ever before, but that hasn’t come with a rebalancing of domestic work. Photo – Sarah Collins of Work + Co. for The Design Files.

I’m writing this on August 23rd, the day the Liberal Party of Australia was overrun by enmity, and we lost another Prime Minister – our fifth in five years. My six-year-old nephew told us, ‘I’m going to have nightmares tonight, I’m so worried for Australia.’ He added, ’What’s going to happen to Indigenous Australians?’ – fitting, considering Peter Dutton boycotted the Stolen Generations apology.

How are we meant to explain all this to our children – the disloyalty and ill-discipline, the thirst for revenge – from those who are meant to lead and inspire us, to build our future? I don’t have the answers, and feel glad my son is still too young to question.

Today we talk with Adam Bandt, Federal Member for Melbourne, father to daughters Wren and Elke, and champion of social justice, climate action, and racial, educational and economic equity. I can’t help but agree with Craig Laundy that modern Australian politics is broken, and generational change is required to restore purpose and compassion to our leaders. Adam is a light at the end of this dark tunnel.

Adam, thank you for talking with us today. I understand you are protective of your family’s privacy but felt compelled to speak out on their behalf a few years back to plead with parents – in your local area and beyond – to vaccinate their children. Do you think anything has changed on this front? Is it possible to breakthrough on such issues in our age of distrust and fake news?

Claudia and I feel really strongly about not putting children at risk through non-vaccination. Going public made a difference, because it helped dispel a myth about how Greens-voting, cloth nappy-using, inner-city parents act. I also think us sharing our personal story helped reinforce trust in the science, because we weren’t asking people to do something we weren’t already doing ourselves.

With the House of Representatives sitting for almost a third of the year, you’re away a lot for work. How do you remain an engaged parent and support Claudia when in Canberra, travelling the country or abroad?

I think we only get by because Claudia and I share similar values, and she thinks the work is important. It’s the hardest part of the job, and while I’m not after any sympathy for myself, because I stuck my hand up for this, I think people fail to appreciate how hard it is on partners, who spend a big chunk of time as single parents.

FaceTime is great, and I try to talk to the kids at least twice a day from Canberra. But it has its down sides: I still remember Wren before she turned two saying ‘Daddy come out of phone and read Wren a story.’ My heart swelled with pride at the grammar but ached from the content! Canberra sitting weeks end on Thursday nights, and I spend time with the kids alone on Friday mornings, often heading to the Melbourne Museum. Claudia can usually rely on that too, that she will get that break.

It is difficult to support Claudia when I’m away, beyond trying to be a sympathetic voice. If the kids have been up all night and have left her wrecked before she heads to work, I can’t be that much help. The main thing is making time for Claudia to have a rest from us all when I get back. And after getting home on a Thursday night, I usually sleep on the couch in case the kids have a bad night, so that she can shut the door and get some sleep. It’s not much, but when it’s been a tough week with the kids, it’s at least something she can look forward to.

You’ve said, ‘men need to talk about gender more… the whole world is built on the unpaid work of women and it’s time to acknowledge gender is not just a women’s issue.’ Can you tell us a bit about the legislation you’ve introduced to help give people – especially those caring for others – better work/life balance? What do you think it will take to upend our cultural norms around family and work?

We’re doing a terrible job in Australia of matching the hours people want to work with the hours they actually work. We’ve got young people un- and under-employed at record rates. But at the other end of the spectrum, too many people are overworked and women especially are reporting work negatively interferes with their lives. There are more women in the paid workforce than ever before, but that hasn’t come with a rebalancing of domestic work. And it’s not just children who need looking after; as people live longer, it’s often parents too. Rising job insecurity, with people working more irregular hours and having less say over it, is also making things worse.

So I’ve been pushing to give people more control over their working hours. I’m trying to change the law so that people have an enforceable right to change their working arrangements, especially if they are carers, with the federal workplace commissionable to adjudicate disputes. I’m also pushing bills to start winding back the negative consequences of insecure work. We want to start the push to shorten the average working week, to help share available work around more fairly, and give people more time off.

Changing the law will help change cultural norms, but people need to join their unions and the growing social movements pushing for a better deal. We will only get work/life balance and job insecurity laws through Parliament if MPs can see a groundswell for change. That means more people – and especially men – speaking out about the pressures that overwork, expensive childcare, and runaway housing costs are having on our personal and family lives.

As a mother and human, I’ve watched in horror as ‘migrant families’ have been separated in the US. I sense most Australians feel the same, yet when it comes to our own approach to refugees, that humanity slips away – the hearts of so many remain hard. With an election looming and the issue bound to be abused, how might we restore a sense of compassion for refugees?

It’s heartbreaking. On Nauru, there are 119 children that we have effectively been locked up, including a 14-year-old with muscle wastage so severe he may not walk again, a 12-year-old at imminent risk dying, and a two-year-old whose mother is in a ‘catatonic’ state. Labor reopened this camp, and the Liberals are keeping people there. What we’re doing isn’t that different from Donald Trump’s ‘children in cages,’ there’s just less media access.

Consecutive governments have sought to dehumanise these people, calling them ‘illegals’ and making them appear a threat to our security. Key to turning it around is telling their stories, reminding Australians that these are children and people that are just like you and me, and making the case that our cities and regions are so much better because we accepted ‘boat people’ in the past and didn’t lock them up. I always remind people that Melbourne is the great place it is because of boat people, refugees and migrants. If we did 40 years ago what we’re doing now, we wouldn’t have the Vietnamese community making Richmond great, for example. It gives me hope to remember that only a few decades ago we did it differently in this country, and I think we can get there again.

And the one language politicians understand is votes, so when it becomes clear (as it did in Melbourne) that people don’t want their politicians to engage in a race to the bottom on refugees and will switch their votes accordingly, MPs will start to shift.

When you’re at home in Melbourne, how do your days start and end with Wren and Elke?

Generally, I’m the one who gets them up and gives them breakfast. If one of them gets up at 5.30 or 6.00, there’s sometimes a half-hour on the couch with the lounge lamp on, where we get to cuddle and talk in a quiet house before anyone else wakes up. It’s a really special time for me. Wren and I spent these moments during summer and autumn looking out the window at the changing fig tree in the backyard, discussing how fruit grows and leaves fall off. At the end of the day, I give them a bath and get them ready for bed while Claudia cleans up after dinner. I haggle with Elke over brushing her teeth. I read them each three stories of their choice and then put them to bed.

Moving across time, what kind of adults might you like the girls to grow into? How would you like them to remember you to their own families, and what hopes do you have for the country they call home – a future Australia?

I want them to be strong, loving and to know what makes them happy. If they talk to their children about their lives growing up, I hope they say their parents unconditionally loved them and helped them follow their own path.

I’m also worried about what a warmer world will mean for them, both in terms of a changed climate, rising sea levels and more bushfires, but also what society will be like. Society may become meaner and conflict may get worse, so I hope they get from us some core values of compassion and equality.

If they say that their parents did everything they could to stop global warming and make society a more equal place, I’ll be happy.

Family Favourites

Activity or outing

If we can make a day of it, we’ll go to the Toolangi forest just over an hour out of Melbourne, which I hope will one day be part of a Great Forest National Park. If it’s just for a few hours, we’ll visit the Collingwood Children’s Farm where we’re members – another good way of being surrounded by trees while entertaining the kids.

Dinner destination

We started the kids on phở early on, deciding that they’d eat what we ate, so Pho House in Flemington – or the ‘noodle soup shop’ – is a firm favourite.

Book, film, or show

Across the whole family, ‘Where is the Green Sheep?’ has been on highest rotation over the last three years, but it now has ‘Hairy Maclary’ breathing down its neck. Our next outing is to see Justine Clarke perform; seeing Australian live music has gone next level for us.

Place to travel

We still can’t work out whether travelling with two kids under four is a nice break or hell in a different location. From time to time we rent a holiday house near the beach at Balnarring which has a cubby house, trampoline, and secure fence, so if we’re lucky that can give us up to 20 minutes at a time kid-free. We did take them overseas to sit on a beach for 10 days, which I currently remember as being fun, but which Claudia says I swore at the time was never to be repeated.

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baby-zee5 · 7 years ago

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smartypantsnappiesau · 3 years ago

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vitalmindandbody · 8 years ago

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Refugee crisis: how Greeks opened their centres to strangers

Despite six years of economic hardship, ordinary people have shown stunning magnanimity in assist the 42,000 migrants stranded in their country

Compassion, kindness, magnanimity of flavour: all three apply to Panayiota Drougas and her husband Dimitris as they speed the platform of the develop terminal at Idomeni.

There is no reason in the world that they should be here. Idomeni, at the best of eras, is a godforsaken place: dreary, barren and infused with a pensive usual of remote frontier berths. It is a starkness constructed more haunting still by the thousands of refugees who, following the railway tracks that have led them to this northern angle of Greece , now live in a squalid camp that has up all over the Macedonian frontier which is, of course, why the couple are here.

We envisioned their little faces on television, all these children, so hungry, dead tired, and just wanted to help, articulates Panayiota, a retired headteacher, siding out the 150 chocolate-filled croissants the pair bring along with them. They are refugees they dont want to be here, she sighs, seeings streaming in the cold. We see it as our duty to show them that someone cares. Were going to spread the word, tell former peers and sidekicks to do the same.

They are not alone. The conviction that forced the couple to purchase the croissants, get into their gondola and make the drive from Thessaloniki is something that many appear to share.

Hardship, Greeks have discovered, comes in different subtleties. For six years old they may have been in the eye of the largest eurozone commotion, buffeted by the depredations of austerity, the byproduct of their worst crisis in modern times.

But the batch of thousands of refugees stranded on their shores, often with little more than the clothes on their backs, has now taken them somewhere else. As the numbers have grown so, more, have the acts of altruism some entered, some never seen nationwide.

In Idomeni, pensioners struggling to make ends meet buy 2 cakes of dough, one to share with those who have pitched on their minuscule community; abroad, villagers open their residences. On Aegean islands that have brought the brunt of the influx of refugees, browses hard hit by plummeting consumption donate supplies.

In Athens, where passenger terminals, ballparks and public squares have been was transformed into chaotic receipt cores, Greeks of all backgrounds and ages have raced to join the succour struggle. Everywhere, NGOs speak of an explosion of paying that has taken them aback. I could tell you so many storeys, alleges Caroline Haga, a Finn seconded for the past four months to the country, with the International Red Cross. In Samos and Chios, lately, every storekeeper I filled wanted to give something for “their childrens”. Its amazing, considering what theyve gone through themselves. And more and more, every day, are signing up as volunteers.

Its a generosity of intent that has not been lost on recipients. With Greeces impoverished state organization unfolded to breaking point, refugees have been dependent on the kindness of strangers. The Greek police are horrid, reads Amar Souadi, an Iraqi, standing on the cliff where he has pitched his tent in the clay realms that are now home to the refugees in Idomeni. But the Greek beings are very good, he declares, breaking into a smile.

In Kos island my partner, Selma, established birth. They did everything for us. Search, here is my boy, Kasum, he is 10 dates old-time. We didnt wishes to make this pilgrimage but in Baghdad I acted as a translator for a British petroleum companionship and beings interpreted me as a deserter. Examine at my forearm, look at my stomach, look at these[ artillery] wounds.

In the coming months, EU officials predict that as numerous as 150,000 migrants and refugees could contact the country. By Friday, 42,000 were recorded across Greece. Any hopes of the numbers putting as a result of the preparation of the proposed programme bargain concurred between the bloc and Turkey to stem the tide have not been borne out.

Children receive a free banquet at a restaurant on the island of Kos. Photo: USA/ REX/ Shutterstock

Reaction to the flows could have gone either way; and with the closure last week of Europes Balkan corridor by Macedonia and other nations, it is able to yet change. On the back of financial collapse, the anti-immigrant, neo-fascist Golden Dawn has emerged, and impounded sway, as the third-biggest political oblige. The potential of Greece becoming a permanent base for refugees would not only place additional push on civilization, but administer it with regenerated vitality.

Everything we are seeing has been a pleasant astound, reads Melia Eleftheriadi, an employee with the Athens prefecture. The fondnes, right now, is we live under the same sunshine. We fall in love under the same moon. We are all human we have to help these people.

From her wreak room outside the former Olympic taekwondo stadium whose basement storage infinite has been grown with chronicle quicken into an assistant deployment centre Eleftheriadi has a birds-eye view of those wanting to help. Since “the centres activities” opened just seven daytime ago, a apparently incessant river of people have become their road to its doors, some in gondolas, some on foot, some old-time, some young, but all in common quest: to alleviate the plight of refugees.

Its been very moving, she contributes, shaking her pate almost in incredulity. There was one male, in his 50 s, earlier this week who , it is not possible to drive, took a bus from Nafplion[ in the Peloponnese] just so he could drop off a carton with a few circumstances for them.

Stacks of shoes, sleeping bags, nappies, towels, clothes, liquid and food supplies are sprawled around the cellar testament, if something, to the exclusively organisational sort of their own problems now facing powers. Almost every Greek has a family member who has immigrated or been a refugee, responds Eleftheriadi. My own grandmother fled Turkey during the course of its Asia Minor calamity[ following the first world war ]. So many of us have same narratives, which might explain why subscriptions arent their own problems. Its what to do with them all.

Where the state has miscarried, voluntaries and NGOs have stepped in. On the islands, in Athens and in the innumerable shelters set up in disused army barracks, hotels, parks and public houses, they have come deploying crisis situations skills and the feeling of do-gooders everywhere.

For people such as Nibal Shkirm, a Syrian coach from Aleppo, who property in Lesbos with her four children and husband last week, different groups have been a boom. You learn these shoes? she responds, brandishing a duet of Timberland sneakers outside her tent on a quay in Piraeus port. Some good Greek “ve given me” them. You identify her shoes, and his shoes, and her shoes? Some good Greek made them, very. These beings, they are very kind but satisfy write that we dont want to stay. We want to go to Germany. Maybe you can help?

With the EU rushing in emergency humanitarian aid in the weeks onward, the volunteer movement is bound to grow.

Like the emergencies that have overlapped in the country on the frontline of Europes two great dramas, history is being played out in billows. The refugee disaster resonates because Greeks, too, have moved to foreign countries and have also been migrants and migrs pressured, through self-exile, or political and economic requirement, to search better lives abroad. After the civil crusades merciless result in 1949, more than a third of the rural regions immigrated to Australia, Germany and America. Ever since, Greek blues lyricists, poets and film-makers have been inspired by what is known as xenitia .

This is an experience that very few other people have. It is dug into our collective consciousness, speaks Professor Constantinos Tsoukalas, Greeces pre-eminent sociologist. Greeks know what it is like to lose everything: residences, pals, storages, envisions, the memorabilia of their lives. The kindness, the empathy cant go on for ever, of course, but to a great degree it explains what we are seeing today.

The volunteers

The cook: Babis Kalogeridis, 50

Kalogeridis did not think twice about volunteering when the refugee crisis intensified. As a cook , commonly encountered working in a indulgence inn on the east Aegean island of Thassos, his sciences were in demand.

Babis Kalogeridis stirs a 500 -litre pot of soup at the refugee camp in Idomeni. Photo: Helena Smith for the Observer

Wanting to help passes or doesnt come from inside you, replies the father-of-two as he arouses a giant cauldron of lentil and rice soup in a kitchen receptacle that has been set up in the border camp at Idomeni. All I envision are pedigree people, people who have been uprooted because of war.

Kalogeridis drives to the camp on the Greek-Macedonian frontier from his house in Thessaloniki at least four times every week. The ride is shared with two other concocts who, like Kalogeridis, are members of a chefs guild whose activities include doing charitable labors.

Wanting to help rises or doesnt come from inside you All I recognize are beings uprooted by struggle

Eight-hour transformations of unremitting toil in rudimentary situations follow. Until lately, when a tube was connected to the nearby community of Idomeni, “there werent” passing sea in the following areas. We induce around 4,000 portions of hot nutrient every day, he smiles. A spate of us in north Greece whose class were also uprooted in the 1922[ Greco-Turkish] campaign are sensitive to the enormous adversity refugees digest. It reminds us of what our relatives went through.

The schoolteacher: Lili Mastichiadou, 58 Like numerous in our own countries, Mastichiadou has been appalled by the misfortune lapping at Greeces shorings.

The sight of children drowning off Aegean islands, the sheer proportion of the crisis and Europes inability to deal with it have all played a role in her decision to volunteer.

Everyone has their own tipping object, she speaks, parcelling donated sanitary towels into caskets in an facilitate dissemination core opened last week in the cellar of a former Olympic stadium in Athens. When you see infants croaking in front of your eyes, what you believe or dont accept discontinues to question. It croaks behavior beyond ideology.

Lili Mastichiadou volunteering at an assistance distribution core in Athens. Photo: Helena Smith for the Observer

She said it came as second nature to offer support. The response to the crisis has been very chaotic since we are suffer from paucity “of the organizations activities”, she adds. I knew there would be a need for logistical backup.

When you see infants croaking in front of your eyes, what you believe concludes to substance

Mastichiadou is also the daughter of a refugee ejected from Turkey in 1922. As a public employee she, more, has met her salary slashed as a result of Greeces six-year economic crisis. My father-god was from Asia Minor and when I grew up Greece was poor. There was a culture of helping your neighbour. It wasnt considered special. I will work here, after school hours, for as long as they need me.

The taxi driver: Kostas Moisides, 64 Moisides would not customarily consider himself to be a voluntary. But as a committed political leftwinger who has long belongs to a neighbourhood solidarity group now run by the regulating Syriza party, he is no newcomer to helping people out. For years now we have been invoking money to support the poor, mentions the taxi driver who comes from Nikaia, one of the Greek uppercases poorest suburbs, in the west of the city. Theres an infrastructure in place to aid refugees that is the product of our own economic crisis.

Kostas Moisides in the repository where he has delivered several bags of nutrient. Photograph: Helena Smith for the Observer

Moisides, who analyzed electrical engineering in Italy, says that he was also encouraged to participate in the relief efforts for refugees because of his displeasure in Europe. It wasnt the Europe that my generation, at the least, dreamed of, he enunciates. To be honest its very disheartening.

It wasnt the Europe that my generation at least dreamed of. Its very disheartening

At 64, Moisides has joined a volunteer group that is dispersing nutrient on the quays of Piraeus port. But at the least twice a few weeks Moisides too plans to collect and deliver donated goods for refugees and migrants. Unemployment is more than 30% in Nikaia, there are shuttered patronizes everywhere, when the shipyards closed many parties lost their jobs, but they care and they are giving.

Interviews by Helena Smith